


Sometimes Goodbye Is A Second Chance

by skargasm



Series: Taming the Muse [15]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bounces off of canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-06 15:00:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1862148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skargasm/pseuds/skargasm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What the hell were they going to do now?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stiles' POV

His mother’s death had rocked his world—thrown it from its’ axis point and left him feeling adrift for a long time. He knew it had completely capsized his father’s life—they’d talked once, or rather his dad had talked and he listened. Heard all about the plans they had for when they were older—when Stiles was off living his own life and his parents had retired. They’d talked about travelling the world, seeing all of the sights that a young deputy with a family couldn’t afford to take off and see. It had been totally heart-breaking—his dad had dragged out a world map littered with post it notes in his mother’s neat handwriting—restaurant recommendations, tourist traps, romantic spots. Just seeing it—the evidence of her oh so familiarly organised mind before the dementia had set in, how she’d plotted the whole thing out—it was one of those times when his dad kept going until the bottle was empty and Stiles didn’t try to stop him. 

It wasn’t quite the same but the time since Scott had been bitten had been full of upheaval: Peter, kanimas, supernatural hunters, the alpha pack and all of their shit—it had all combined to make him feel like he was stuck on a boat, hanging on for dear life while it ricocheted and catapulted him from side to side in a turbulent sea. Constantly threatening to capsize and throw him overboard. Then this shit with the nogitsune—losing Allison—it just. Well, it just sucked. 

And now this. It was just—hell, it was downright unconstitutional. They deserved a break, a chance to take a breath and recoup. He found himself thinking of the short amount of time they had had—what seemed like long, hot days hanging out at the loft, reading through books that Derek kept producing from when he made a trip to his storage place in New York; having movie marathons and sharing all of his favourites with a new audience even if they didn’t always get the attraction; discovering that although Derek was a heavy reader—like double digits every week because he read voraciously—he was by no means a literary snob and could argue the merits of comics versus movie adaptions almost as well as Stiles could. 

Stiles wasn’t a completely oblivious fool no matter what some people might think. He knew there was something between Derek and him; knew that spending all that time together voluntarily with no emergencies or outstanding danger meant that they were at least friends. 

At least. 

And then it happened. That one time waking up to find he had fallen asleep on Derek’s shoulder (again). He’d wiped away the drool marks from around his mouth and chin, whilst checking out the truly impressive wet patch he had left on Derek’s faded Henley, wondering if Derek was going to kill him. Mesmerised by the softness of Derek’s face as he smirked at Stiles’ sleep hair; hypnotised watching Derek’s hand come closer and closer until it was stroking the sleep creases on his face. Those stunning eyes watched him warily, checking that whatever it was was welcome before Stiles’ vision had begun to blur because Derek was so close and his fingertips were tracing the contours of his lips. He could taste the saltiness of Derek’s skin as he licked his lips and caught one fingertip with his tongue. Watched Derek’s pupils expand, heard the sharp intake of breath he took before his hand moved away from Stiles’ mouth because he obviously intended to replace them. With something. 

His lips. 

Most likely. 

Oh God.

Stiles couldn’t breathe, positive he was either hallucinating or had died and this was one little corner of his own private heaven (yes, he had totally planned it out because he needed room for his family and friends, plus his Xbox and PS4, and obviously now he needed somewhere private for some quiet time with Derek in maybe a soundproof room so that they didn’t need to stay quiet). So, yeah. Little piece of heaven coming right up. 

“Derek—“ his voice was a whisper despite it being just the two of them. 

“No pressure—all you have to say is no.” He knew how important it was that Derek not do anything that reminded him of ‘she-who-should-remain-nameless-and-dead-dead-dead’. 

“That’s an affirmative on the action I think you were going to take, as in an enthusiastic yes, oui, auf wiedersen—“

“Stiles, that’s goodbye!” 

“My bad!”

They laughed briefly before they were suddenly right back in the moment. Close—as close as they had been the night Derek slammed him into his bedroom door; as close as the swimming pool when every single part of his body had ached but he wouldn’t – couldn’t – bring himself to let go. So close he could smell the toffee sweetness of their popcorn on Derek’s breath. Eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, he had leant that little bit closer until – 

“Hey Derek, do you – oh shit!” Stiles knew he’d been a chicken shit asshole, jumping up from the sofa and grabbing his jacket, refusing to look at Derek as the other man got to his feet. 

“Wow, my Dad will give me hell – have you seen the time?! Like, hey Isaac, I thought you were out with Scott but obviously – anyway, it’s time for me to go so Derek I’ll catch you later and Isaac I—“

“Stiles, I—“ By the time Derek made it to the door, Stiles was racing down the stairs and hotfooting it to his jeep. The whole time damning himself for a coward but still too scared to turn back.

~ o o O o o ~

And now look where they were. Fucking Mexico in the middle of the goddamned desert with Malia aggressively flirting with Lydia; Kira obviously panicking about how to approach Scott; and Scott—Scott and Braeden were coming right towards them, half carrying someone.

By the time they were close enough for Stiles to be able to tell that all three of them were unbloodied and breathing fine on their own, he’d realised why Scott was shooting him nervous looks.

“Is that—is that Derek?” Well, holy shit, what could he say to that? Because the man being held up, eyes staring around in confusion before alighting on him with burgeoning recognition was but he wasn’t. How many years shaved off? Just how old was he now? And how bad was it that Stiles was hoping he was of legal age?

“Yeah—umm, sort of!” What they hell were they going to do now?

* * *


	2. Derek's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How the hell did Derek find himself here and what the hell had Kate done to him?

His life was a shitstorm. Had been for years if he was honest. The ship he called his life that he was meant to be steering through the stormy waters of puberty didn’t so much capsize as make the titanic look sailworthy. It was a wreck.

But somehow, he kept going. Through life with just Laura until she came back and he lost her. To finding out about Peter and building a new pack. To losing Erica and Boyd but gaining Cora—he remained stubbornly on his feet, bowed but not broken. And part of the reason for that, part of what kept him putting one foot in front of the other was Stiles.

Almost losing him to the nogitsune had forced Derek to face his feelings for the young man. Facing his feelings and refusing to let Kate taint what seemed to be growing between them forced him to talk to the Sheriff—and what a conversation that had been. Apart from being quizzed to within an inch of his life on his intentions, he’d found himself spending hours going through cold cases. Some were supernatural and when he could help out, it made him feel good. The Sheriff would pat him on the back and give him that half smile and say ‘thanks son’ and Derek would feel that small place in his chest warm up at the praise. 

Being a consultant for the Beacon Hills Police Department, using qualifications he’d studied for in New York (yes, Stiles finding out he’d been interested and studying to possibly go into Law Enforcement had been a LONG conversation)—it made him feel like he was putting down real roots. And hopefully impressing his soon-to-be-boyfriend’s father didn’t hurt. 

So, school was over, there were no supernatural shit taking over, and once Cora had gone to New York and settled in, he found himself finding ways to spend time with Stiles. Isaac inadvertently helped by monopolising Scott—sharing their grief and bonding—so Stiles was at a ‘loose’ end. And Derek was willing to watch marathons of truly awful movies just so he could argue with Stiles about them; cooking and teaching Stiles some heart-healthy recipes to sneak past the Sheriff; hanging out and talking about books. 

Slowly but surely, he could tell that Stiles wasn’t with him because he was bored or lonely—he was spending all of his time with Derek because he _wanted_ to. They sat closer and closer together and became more tactile with each other. They talked about the dynamics of the pack with Isaac wanting to leave; Scott trying to be alpha whilst struggling with grief; Malia literally sniffing around Lydia; and Kira pining for Scott whilst trying to respect his need to mourn. Dating without dating until anyone wanting to get hold of Stiles was as likely to call Derek’s cell because Stiles was there so often and tended to leave his cell in his hoodie and not answer it. Derek ate dinner at the Stilinski’s at least twice a week and the Sheriff knew Stiles would be at Derek’s if he was working a double shift. Hell, even Peter was restraining himself from commenting on their slow courtship—as he put it, they’d all been through so much drama and trauma, everybody should be (a) getting therapy and (b) taking any and all emotional entanglements slower than a snail stuck to a frozen path. 

Of course it was going too well. Isaac interrupting just as Derek finally plucked up the courage to make a move to get that first kiss should have warned him that shit was going to hit the fan.

Yet again.

He didn’t even have time to get hold of Stiles who was avoiding him so assiduously before his life capsized yet again. 

Kate. A shape-shifting Kate; weird ass dreams; torture; Mexico.

Kate. A shape-shifting Kate with her stupid one liners and creepy ass flirting, shotguns full of wolfsbane but one that incapacitated instead of killing. He found himself out of his head in a cage; then shoved into the trunk of a car for a long, thirsty number of hours; out again with Kate grinning at him as she pumped him full of _something_ , telling him he was a sacrifice, that the Benefactor would be pleased. His last real moment of clarity had been an awareness of his bonds as his blood seemed to freeze in his veins even whilst his body felt like it was on fire—an awareness that none of those feelings showed. He lay like a corpse, feeling himself begin to change even whilst Kate shut him in.

He was a chicken-shit who should have kissed Stiles one of the **many** chances he’d had; should have warned the Sheriff about were-jaguars; should have told Scott more about werewolf lore. So many should haves when it all seemed too late—he didn’t even know if the pack would bother trying to find him, they were so fractured with everything that had happened. Would he even be missed? His ship of life had well and truly sunk this time. 

When he woke up again, the bonds weren’t as tight and he felt _lighter_ \--whatever that meant. But who cared because that was Scott and Braeden bursting into his strange prison, hands setting him free whilst his mind reeled at the thought that they had come for him. They had missed him and come looking.

“Derek, dude, what the hell?”

“Not now Scott—let’s just get him out of here before whatever you roared at finds its balls and comes back!”

“But—“

“Scott – I… thanks for…. “ His voice was wrong, his body felt wrong—familiar but wrong and the panic was building. He managed to count the fingers on both hands to reassure himself that he wasn’t imagining the whole rescue but even that wasn’t truly reassuring because that meant this weird feeling was **real**. 

“Dude, you’re like – man, you’re **my** age!” Scott completely missed Braeden’s scowl, taking long looks at Derek even as he helped him stagger through the tunnels. 

“SCOTT!” 

“I—fuck!” That was his voice—or rather, the way his voice used to sound during his late teens. Before he could fully process what had obviously happened, they were outside and he was finally breathing fresh air, something he had never thought would happen again. 

He didn’t know how far they managed to stagger with him half slumped between Scott and Braeden when that well-remembered scent invaded his nostrils; that galloping heartbeat was in his ears and at last, that was Stiles stood in front of him. Eyes wide, mouth agape, but his Stiles nevertheless. His eyes flickered sideways to the other pack members: Kira, Lydia, Malia, before flying back to Stiles.

“Is that—is that Derek?” That was Malia, the only one in the pack who hadn’t been subjected to the family pictures Peter had found and shared with everyone. Stiles moved forward, one hand lifting as though to touch before he changed his mind and simply stared. 

“Yeah—umm sort of.” Derek strained, using his weakened senses to try to figure out what Stiles was thinking, feeling. Nervous, tense, tired but under that—oh yeah, that was definitely arousal. Just like that, Derek felt his own body start to react and he shifted nervously, suddenly aware that he seemed to have been de-aged back to his teenage years. He had no idea how, what might happen to him, whether Kate would come after him again, or who the hell the Benefactor was. And here he was, starving and barely managing to stay on his feet and getting a boner. How was this his life? And what the hell were they going to do now?

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I'm just as bad as the episode - no resolution here, just a bit of a tease. 
> 
> Taming the Muse Prompt : Capsize  
> Writing Week : 59
> 
> * * *

**Author's Note:**

> This was in my head pretty much from watching the first episode of S4. But be warned - it ends where it ends and there's no more in my head. So bear that in mind and hopefully you won't be too disappointed. 
> 
> Taming the Muse Prompt : Capsize,  
> Writing week: 201
> 
> Second Chance by Shinedown
> 
> * * *


End file.
